


it could mean so much

by SailorChibi



Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: Feels, First Kiss, James Bond Breaks In, M/M, Multi, Pining, Polyamory, Possessive Behaviour, Q Has a Cat, Q Has a Crush, Q is really very tired of all of this, Resolved Pining, Threesome, Threesome - M/M/M, author doesn't even know anymore, being pressured for sex, but by an OC, courting, get-together, possessive agents
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-17
Updated: 2016-01-17
Packaged: 2018-05-14 10:04:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,625
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5739529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SailorChibi/pseuds/SailorChibi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Being a quartermaster at MI6 lent itself to a very lonely life, particularly when your partners inevitably dump for you not giving it up or because they think the exceptionally long work hours mean you're cheating on them. But it didn't matter, because Q would never get what he really wanted.</p>
            </blockquote>





	it could mean so much

**Author's Note:**

> So this fic was supposed to be porn, as in James and Alec showing a virgin Q a good time. I.... honestly don't know what happened. It's just a mess now. I apologize in advance. I don't know how my lovely porn turned into this.

"Take one more left, then a right and that should lead you out of the building, 002. You should be able to lose anyone chasing you in the crowd. I trust you can take it from here?"

"I think even I can manage to find my way through a city, Q."

Q smiled to himself. Like all of the double-ohs, 002 was legendary for her skills. She was particularly good with a knife. She was also spectacularly bad at directions. "You have a plane ticket back home waiting for you at the airport. It leaves at 14:00."

"Ta. 002 out."

As the earpiece went silent, Q removed it from his ear and set it down on the desk beside the steaming cup of tea that had, at some point, appeared beside his elbow. He took an absent sip and sputtered in surprise at the spiciness, which was perfectly tempered by just the right amount of milk and sugar. Normally he took his tea with just a dash of milk, but the longer he worked (and he was coming up on just over forty hours) the sweeter he liked it. No one had paid enough attention to know that except for - he closed his eyes, resigned, and covered his smile with another sip of the tea.

"Do you like it? I brought it back all the way from India."

"I don't suppose you brought your weapons with you," Q said wryly, glancing over his shoulder.

Alec Trevelyan froze in the middle of a wince and quickly drummed up a boyish smile. "I brought myself back in one piece. Does that count?"

"No."

"Rude," Trevelyan muttered, sheepishly producing what had once been a specialized gun that shot miniature bullets - five times as many as a regular gun, but with the capability to do twice the damage. It was now nothing more than a ball of metal. Q groaned when he saw it, setting his cup down in favour of taking the poor gun into his cupped hands. He stroked the barrel - at least, he thought it was the barrel - sadly, as though that could undo the damage.

"Really, Alec," James Bond said, sauntering into Q's office. He swung the door shut behind him and made a show of shaking his head. "What did you do, use it to start a fire?"

"Threw it at a bomb, actually," Trevelyan said with no small amount of pride.

"You two are a menace," Q said, not that he was surprised in the least. 006 and 007 were the only double-ohs that worked well together. But to say that there were always explosions involved during their exploits was an understatement. So it was rare that MI6 actually dared to send them out on a mission together, and it was generally agreed that they were only to be partnered if it was truly necessary. 

Q understood that notion wholeheartedly. Standing there in front of them, he was able to keep his composure only because he'd had a lot of practice. No one would have known from looking at him that his heart was pounding just a little harder, or that his pulse was starting to race as the silence deepened and a set of blue and green eyes openly looked him over. All of the double-ohs were attractive, but there was just something about these two in particular that got to him. And as the quartermaster, that was the one thing Q couldn't allow.

Except it would just be _so_ much easier if they were shallow assholes, instead of genuinely kind, sweet and intelligent. And if he hadn't just broken up with his boyfriend three days ago because of that.

He cleared his throat. "I don't suppose you have anything better for me, Bond?"

"No gun, but I did bring this back." Bond held up a flash drive. "Not sure what's on it, but thought you'd like a look."

"You are officially my favourite."

"Hey!" Trevelyan protested.

Ignoring the brief tussle that was going on behind him, too used to their antics to rise to the bait, Q plugged the flash drive into a computer that was secure from MI6's servers. He'd learned that lesson the hard way. Everything would remain on this laptop until he'd had the chance to comb through it and make sure that there was nothing dangerous. Only then would he divvy the information up and send it to his minions to be decrypted, examined, and logged. It was a tedious process, but after what Silva had done it was the way Q preferred to operate.

His typing paused when familiar hands landed on his hips, and an equally familiar body pressed up against him from behind. "Don't I get a kiss as a thank you?" Bond asked softly.

That. That was the exact reason why Q had broken up with his boyfriend. Or been broken up with, he still wasn't entirely sure what had happened. All he really knew was that Bond and Trevelyan had been openly flirting with him for weeks, and - according to his boyfriend - a series of texts from Trevelyan during a mission had been the final straw. It had ended up in a huge fight, accusations were hurtled, and his boyfriend stormed out. They hadn't spoken since then, and Q figured it was safe to assume things were officially over.

Q wasn't exactly sorry to see the relationship end: his boyfriend had been getting pushy lately, wanting sex, and that wasn't something Q was sure he wanted. At least not with his now ex-boyfriend. The two agents standing behind him, on the other hand, well. Q's body had been ready to jump on that train from day one. It had taken his mind just a little bit longer to get with the program.

But now here he was, half in love with MI6's most dangerous double-ohs, and he wasn't sure who was the bigger fool. Himself for letting this happen, or Bond and Trevelyan for being the maddening flirts that they were. Himself, probably, for forgetting that double-ohs lived and breathed charisma. It was all but a prerequisite for the bloody job. It didn't mean anything to them - they were _dating_ for god's sake, and Q didn't want to get in between that. He definitely did not want to be brought into their bed as a one-night stand, if either of them were even interested that far, which was doubtful.

"Q?"

The whispered name, and the breath on the back of his neck, startled Q from his thoughts. "I don't kiss unless it means something," he said without thinking, skin prickling.

"And if it did?" Trevelyan said.

It was spoken so seriously that Q was half-turning to face him before he remembered Bond and how close they were standing. He swallowed again. "I'm afraid I'm not following, 006."

"Aw, come on, Q. Don't be like that. I hate it when you code name me."

"We are in the office," said Q, which was as much a reminder to himself as it was to the agents. He gathered himself and stepped to the side, out of Bond's reach. "And if you don't have anything else, I believe that M is waiting for both of you to report in."

There was a significant pause behind him, during which Q didn't dare turn to look at the two of them, and then Bond said, "Have a drink with us later."

"What?"

"You heard me. There's nothing pressing right now, is there? You'll be heading home tonight. Come out for a drink with us first."

This was bad. This was so very, very bad. Q took a sip of his tea to give himself a moment before responding. Unfortunately, all he could come up with was a very weak sounding, "That's not a good idea."

"Why not?" Trevelyan said.

"Because I don't do one night stands. I'm too greedy for that." The words were out before Q could stop them, his traitorous mouth acting of its own accord, and he could feel the implications of that statement - that one night with the agents wouldn't be enough - hanging in the air. A hot flush crept up his face at the prolonged silence behind him, and he'd never been more grateful for the fact that R rarely waited for him to tell her to come in when she knocked than he was at that moment. 

"Q, there's been a - oh. I'm sorry," R apologized, looking chagrined. "I didn't realize you had company."

"It's fine. 006 and 007 were just going," he said, seizing his chance with both hands. He never once looked back at them as he followed R out of the room, and carefully did not look up from fixing whatever problems had arisen when he heard the tell-tale shuffling of his minions that meant the agents were departing. 

It turned out to be a relatively simple fix, which was fortunate because Q didn't feel capable of concentrating. It took most of his control just to keep his hands from shaking as he typed up some coding. What the hell had he been thinking saying something like that to two double-ohs? Harmless flirting was one thing, but Q had just crossed a line and now it was all going to be unbearably awkward.

And that was if Bond and Trevelyan didn't decide to tease him (which was unlikely, but you could never be 100% certain how double-ohs would react), or pity him (more likely), or make the switch to a wholly professional relationship (which was probably the best outcome he could hope for, and that was just depressing because part of him rather enjoyed the way they flirted).

None of those options left him feeling particularly uplifted (oh god, what if it got around MI6 that the quartermaster had gone beyond a crush and was mostly in love with those two? His reputation would be shot), and when he signed out two hours later it was with a heavy heart and the knowledge that he had fucked up more spectacularly just now than he had since the Silva debacle. 

Needless to say, by the time he made it to the door of his flat he was not in the mood for anything other than a drink, some cuddle time with his cats, and then bed. Sleeping away the events of the past two days sounded like an excellent use of his time. He pressed his hand to the biometric scanner, then stuck his key in the lock. The very last thing he was expecting was to step inside of his flat and see Trevelyan sprawled out across the couch with Linux curled up on his chest.

Q froze, staring at the agent in disbelief. Trevelyan tossed him a lazy smile in return, but made no effort to move. There was the sound of glasses clinking together, and then Bond sauntered into the room with three glasses and a bottle of very expensive whiskey. He walked over to the sofa and, when Trevelyan didn't move his feet, sat down anyway. Trevelyan huffed but otherwise didn't protest.

"I think one of your cats is hiding," Bond said to Q, cracking open the whiskey.

"Codex doesn't like strangers," said Q automatically, and then, "What the bloody hell are you two doing in my flat?" He vaguely remembered the old M complaining about Bond breaking in to her house, but he'd never expected to find himself the recipient of such a visit. Particularly with Trevelyan in tow. This couldn't spell anything good.

"You invited us," said Trevelyan, idly scratching Linux on the rump. The traitorous cat purred loudly and twisted around, nuzzling her head against Trevelyan's chin.

"I did not."

"Sure you did."

"No, I didn't," Q said, but less firmly, because he was running on about two hours sleep and oh god. Maybe he had and he just didn't remember it. Or maybe Trevelyan was just fucking with him. He settled on a sceptical glare.

Trevelyan grinned back at him and sat up, settling Linux into the crook of his arm, and patted the cushion between him and Bond. Q held out for maybe ten seconds before giving in, because sometimes it was just better for his dignity that way, and trudged across the room to sink down into the proffered seat. It was still warm from the heat of Trevelyan's legs. He had to wonder if anyone else had ever been this close to the both of them outside of a bedroom without dying a painful death. Probably not.

"Drink?" Bond asked.

"Please," Q said. His alcoholic limit wasn't great, mostly because he regularly forgot to eat unless food was shoved in front of his face, but it had been a very trying few weeks. He accepted the glass and took a little sip, closing his eyes at the smooth, almost sweet burn. He didn't remember having any whiskey in the flat, and this confirmed it: this bottle had probably cost a good five thousand pounds, if not more. Which meant that Bond had brought it with him. 

Why?

"All alone tonight, Q?" Trevelyan said from left.

Q didn't bother to look at him. "Yes."

"Trouble in paradise?" said Bond, and it wasn't really a question. No doubt they'd already been through the whole flat. They would've seen the unmistakable spots where things were missing, because Q hadn't got around to shifting anything around yet.

"There is no more paradise," he said quietly, sipping against at his whiskey. "But then, after all those texts 006 sent me, I rather imagine you both knew that already."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Oh please," Q said, opening one eye to pin Trevelyan with an exasperated glance. "Do give me some credit, 006. Let's not pretend the two of you didn't thoroughly look into Andrew's background and deem him unfit for whatever reason. Not only did he talk about being followed by two blond men in bespoke suits -" He gave Bond's suit a pointed look "- I started getting texts whenever I was with him, and you both started bringing me little trinkets back from missions and sending me postcards, and - and you wanted to give him the wrong idea, though I have no idea why, so congratulations. You won. We broke up last week."

Trevelyan didn't even have the grace to look apologetic. "Good. You're better off without him, Q."

"I know." Q sighed down at his drink and tossed back the rest of it. It was the truth, but it didn't make him very happy to hear. He adored his job as MI6's Quartermaster, and he wouldn't trade it for anything else in the world. But it was a lonely position in many ways. His last four boyfriends had all complained about the ludicrous hours that he worked, not to mention the fact that all of his work was top secret and couldn't be shared. Since most of them thought he was just in I.T., it inevitably caused its own set of problems. He'd been dumped more than once by partners who thought he was cheating; considering that Andrew was a bit of the jealous type, Trevelyan and Bond had merely sped up an inevitable process. 

"Are you alright?" Bond asked him.

"I suppose. It happened. I can't change it." Q was quiet for a moment, idly tipping his glass to watch the last few drops of whiskey roll around, and then found himself saying suddenly, "He was an arsehole, anyway. Kept pressuring me to have sex with him."

The reaction was, in retrospect, rather amusing. Trevelyan said "What!" in far too loud of a voice and bolted upright, and then promptly yelped in pain as Linux decided she disliked the sudden movement and dug her claws into him for balance. Bond, on the other hand, shot to his feet and began stalking towards the door with one hand on his gun, all without saying a word. Q hurriedly set his glass down and went after him, more than a little bemused by the unexpected, vehement response. He caught Bond's arm at the door, shocked when Bond actually stopped and looked at him.

"Stand down, 007," he said firmly.

"Q -"

"You heard me. He never actually did anything. It was just a lot of words, and I've had enough of those tossed at me over the years to know how to handle them." He dropped his hand from Bond's arm, feeling confident that Bond wouldn't bother trying to go after Andrew again. Impulsively, his disobedient mouth added, "Besides, I don't know why you care."

Bond gave him the sort of look that Q gave his minions on days when they were being particularly slow and turned fully towards him. He put both hands on Q's shoulders and said quietly, " _Q_ " before kissing him.

A little part of Q was surprised, but the rest of him was just tired. He put his hands up, gently pushing Bond away. "Don't," he said tiredly. "I didn't break up with him for trying to push me into sex just to have a one night stand with you." Or the both of them, since not only were Bond and Trevelyan in a relationship, he had it on good authority that the two of them enjoyed bringing third parties into the bedroom. Not only was it something he didn't really want, and as sappy as it sounded, he didn't think his heart could take it. The memory of one night with these two men would haunt him.

"What if it's not just one night?" Trevelyan whispered in his ear, and Q shivered at the warm breath washing across his neck. He hadn't even noticed Trevelyan coming up behind him.

"I'm not sure what you mean," he said, suspicious. 

Trevelyan's hands settled on his hips, thumbs creeping up under the hem of Q's cardigan, and he pulled Q back until he could rest his chin on Q's shoulder. "He doesn't understand, James."

"I can see that," Bond said, hint of a smirk quirking his lips. "Q, neither of us does a relationship very well. It doesn't take a genius to work that one out. With you, though..." He trailed off, looking expectantly, maybe even hopefully, at Q.

"He means we'd like to try," said Trevelyan. "If you'll have us."

Q was grateful for the hold that Trevelyan had on him, if only because it meant that the floor hadn't opened up underneath him. That's what it felt like. "Are you serious?" he demanded.

"Yes," both of them said in perfect unison.

"Why? Why me?"

"Why not? You bring us home after every mission," Bond pointed out. "And the first time you met Alec, you chewed him out for being an obnoxious twat and then yelled at him again after he showed up at headquarters. That we're double-ohs has never once concerned you."

"I will admit that at first I just wanted to have sex with you, but James veto-ed that. And I'm glad he did," said Trevelyan. "You're worth a lot more than just a one night stand."

This was one of the most surreal moments of Q's life. He closed his eyes for a moment to reorient himself, and when he opened them again Bond was suddenly a lot closer. 

"You can think about it," said Bond. "If you like. I know it's a lot. We planned to court you."

"Court me? I'm not a teenager, no matter how many times you refer to my non-existent spots," said Q. He didn't know if this would last, or it would even work. It seemed too impossible to be true, like he'd fallen asleep in the tube on his way home from work and this was just some delicious dream where he was getting everything he couldn't even admit to himself that wanted. There was a good chance it could put his career in jeopardy if it all went south. 

But if it was being offered for even a little while, he wanted it. He let himself lean into Trevelyan and reached out for Bond, relieved that his hands weren't shaking. Bond stepped into himself easily, and this time Q was an eager participant in the kiss. He could feel Bond smiling, and that smile was still there when Q pulled back and turned his head, a little breathless, to kiss Trevelyan. He was discovering quickly that he liked being between them, but he still didn't want to have sex. Not tonight.

Fortunately, that didn't seem to be their goal either. Eventually the three of them relocated to the couch. Q was still in the middle, with an agent on either side and a blanket tossed over his lap. Both of them seemed perfectly content to settle down for an evening of trash television, take away, and the remainder of Bond's whiskey. Linux and Codex crept over when the food arrived, lured by the scent of teriyaki chicken. Linux curled back up on Trevelyan's lap, and Codex went to sleep on the back of the sofa - close enough to be near, but far enough away so no one could touch.

Occasionally Bond or Trevelyan would sneak a kiss, either from Q or each other, but neither one of them tried to get under his clothing. And when he woke up the next morning, a dreadful taste in his mouth and his eyes burning, they were still there. Only their positions had changed: Bond's head was in Q's lap and Trevelyan was draped heavily against him, snoring. He couldn't move an inch.

"Lovely," Q said to Codex, who opened on eyes to stare at him. He suddenly couldn't stop smiling. "I've adopted two more cats, it seems."

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me on [tumblr](http://tsuki-chibi.tumblr.com/).


End file.
